


Let Go

by Grand Buzz (quodpersortem)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, Established Relationship, Frottage, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Semi-Public Sex, Tour Bus Sex, WWA Tour - USA, Watersports, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 22:39:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1795813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quodpersortem/pseuds/Grand%20Buzz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis has a kink and he's been trying to get Harry on board with it.</p><p>Now he's bored on the tour bus and there's nowhere else they have to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [charliebrown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/charliebrown/gifts).



> Watersports of the non-sports kind. Unless sex counts as sports. (You burn calories so, maybe?).
> 
> Anyway, written for Erika. I was gonna come up with a matching awful pun to match their fic but decided against it (too many of my fics have puns in the titles as it is so idk bad idea). 
> 
> I hope you'll all enjoy the fic :)

Louis pushes bottles of water into Harry’s hand the entire day.

They pass through one state, then the next, endless desert landscape and he whispers, “Keep hydrated, Haz,” or he pretends to the other boys that Harry has a sore throat even if that couldn’t be further from the truth.

They have to be in California by tomorrow evening, so they kip on the bus tonight.

He’s got it all planned out.

-

The first time Harry goes to the toilet, Louis doesn’t even try to stop Harry. It’s only early in the afternoon, and it would be kind of weird if he dragged him off to his bunk right now.

Not something that hasn’t happened before, but, you know. He doesn’t need the other boys’ suspicion.

-

The second time, it’s nearing four. The smell of sand and dust is heavy, even inside the tour bus, and they get off at a petrol station for a refill—the bus more petrol and the boys more food. Liam buys a hideous pair of shades that Zayn immediately proceeds to steal and hand over to Louis, and that’s when he notices Harry slinking off to the stop’s loo.

“Where are you going?” he asks Harry.

The heat is sweltering outside, and out of the comfortable airconditioned bus, sweat pearls on Harry’s skin.

“To the toilet,” he tells Louis, a little frown on his face. “Why?”

“Care if I joined?” Louis smirks, adding a little swagger to his walk, cocking his hips in a way that makes Harry raise his eyebrows at him.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Lou,” he says, still a little subdued.

Louis nods. It’s been a tough couple of days. Harry and his latest supposed girlfriend are all over the tabloids, have been for a few days now, even in America. Hell, _especially_ in America, now that they’re here.

“Come on, though,” he reaches out for Harry’s hand regardless. There’s no one around them that doesn’t know. The clerk at the station doesn’t appear to recognize them, instead boredly flicking through an old newspaper. “I’ll buy you something nice.”

There’s a little smile on Harry’s lips then, and he nods.

Louis ends up buying sausage rolls for the both of them; greasy fries at the side for himself and a salad for Harry. The food’s not good, but sitting next to Harry is, even though he’s starting to get a little twitchy.

 _Especially_ because he’s starting to get a little twitchy. Louis knows what it means, knows that Harry’s bladder is filling and he had to go thirty minutes ago so he has to go more badly now.

Casually, he presses his knee to Harry’s lower belly, which prompts Harry to push his leg away.

“I’m going to the loo,” he says with a pointed look at Louis.

Louis smirks up at him, stays where he is. His dick’s half-hard in his jeans and he has plenty more water to give to Harry to get what he wants, tonight.

Harry probably knows it too, as aware of Louis’ kink if not more, after all the times he’d tried to casually lounge in the bathroom as Harry was going, or “accidentally” walking in without knocking, or attacking him with tickles right before he was going in in the hopes of wet jeans.

Harry had sat him down after that, with big eyes and a frown. Told him, “Are you into that, Louis?” And Louis hadn’t seen a reason to lie, not anymore, so he’d nodded. Harry’d taken a deep breath and nodded as well. “I might be willing to accommodate to that.”

And that had been that.

When Harry gets back, Louis spreads his legs a little wider, so Harry can see what his desperation’s done.

There’s no sound from Harry, no _no_ or _ah_ apart from a darkening in his eyes as he sits down next to Louis, pressed up right against him.

“Here,” Louis whispers, handing Harry another bottle. “Drink it like the good boy you are. Keep your throat lubricated.”

Harry almost chokes on his first sip, but goes on about downing the rest of the bottle anyway. Louis watches him drink, rakes his fingers through Harry’s hair and strokes them across the collarbones that are on clear sight when he’s sitting like this, with a low-cut shirt and the sun starting to set in the American desert.

Louis keeps playing with Harry’s curls, even when the other boys put on the x-box half an hour later. He shakes his head when they ask if he wants to join a game of FIFA, and puts his hand over Harry’s mouth when he responds.

“Have some more water, Haz,” he says instead, procuring another bottle from the fridge he can just about reach from his place on the couch.

“Lou-“ Harry mutters, hesitantly, but Louis shakes his head.

“No, babe, no protests,” he holds up the bottle to Harry’s mouth.

He watches as Harry swallows, his adam’s apple moving up and down under his skin, and Louis tips his head forwards to press a kiss there.

Harry’s got his eyes closed when he drinks, and when he pulls away, the better part of another 0.5L bottle gone, his lips are glossy-wet with an imprint of the plastic left on them.

Since the other guys won’t complain now anyway, too fixed on the television screen, Louis draws Harry in for a kiss.

It’s slow, Harry’s tongue still cool from the water but warming up as Louis slides his own alongside it. He tugs at Harry’s lips with his teeth, then pushes his tongue back in, feeling Harry bite down gently before sucking on it.

Louis draws in a harsh breath through his nose as he climbs into Harry’s lap, both hands in his curls now, and Harry makes a little groaning noise in the back of his throat, half hard when Louis dips down his hand to feel at his crotch.

“Come on!” Zayn whines. “We gotta deal without our girlfriends here, don’t sit there making out like some horny teenagers.”

Louis twists around, smirking while he tugs lightly on Harry’s hair. “Sorry mate. Thought you and Liam had each other anyway-“ Niall groans and hides his head in his hands, “and besides, we’re technically still teenagers.”

“You’re twenty-two,” Liam tells him. “Harry is twenty.”

“Yes, thank you for stating the obvious,” Louis rolls his eyes. “But our _brains_ are still developing ‘till we’re twenty five so, we’re still developing which means we’re still teenagers.”

“Fuck off,” Zayn mutters, digging up a fag and turning back to the screen.

Niall just glares and points his finger at them. “Don’t make me have to listen to the two of you fucking and the two of them wanking again tonight.”

“You’re just annoyed you can’t get the _booty_ ,” Louis teases, lifting up his bum and wiggling it at Niall.

That’s enough to shut the other boys up and have them turn back to the screen.

Louis grabs the bottle again, and Harry tries to ward him off.

“I’m full,” he whispers, leaning up to Louis for a kiss, his hands sliding under Louis’ shirt.

“Not full enough, babe,” Louis mutters in return, pecking Harry’s lips. “Now drink up, yeah? Or I’ll get you some tea if you’d prefer.”

“Water’s fine, then,” Harry grumbles. Louis smiles, hands the bottle to Harry as he caresses his face, strokes his hair and scratches his nails gently against his scalp, right under the headscarf. He can feel Harry relax under him as he finishes his water with a little burp.

“You good?” he asks.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Harry nods, his eyes still closed as Louis continues to massage his head. He drops his head to Louis’ shoulder, groaning a little as they both get comfortable.

It’s relaxing to him too, sitting in his boyfriend’s lap and getting to touch him like this, slow and easy while they’re on the road. There’s no one staring at them right now, and even when Harry starts fake-snoring for a moment—in response to which Louis righteously whacks his head—it doesn’t break the tender moment they have.

Louis being Louis though, and he hates this treat in himself sometimes, he can’t sit with Harry like this for too long. He’s too impatient, energy buzzing in his veins, and once he notices it quickly becomes too difficult to ignore, too difficult to sit still and do nothing but wriggle his fingers a little.

“Harry,” he whispers, nipping at Harry’s earlobe.

“Hmm?”

“You want more to drink?”

Harry sighs. “Lou, we’re on the tour bus.”

“We share our bunk,” Louis tells him, rolling his hips a little. God, the idea that he’ll get Harry exactly the way he wants to has him half-hard still. “They know that. You can be quiet, yeah?”

“Lou, you can’t be-“ Harry starts, and Louis knows he’ll say _serious_ , but cuts him off with a kiss.

“I’m very serious,” he whispers. “We’ll clean up. We’ll figure something out. Just have some more to drink.”

Harry looks at him with big eyes, slowly taking the third bottle from Louis. Louis nods, slightly, and Harry goes ahead, swallowing the water easily, downing half the bottle in less than five minutes.

Louis keeps watching him as Harry catches his breath before drinking again. It goes slower this time, and Louis can imagine the fullness in his stomach, grimaces a little as he imagines how horribly stuffed Harry must feel right now.

Right as Harry’s done, though, Louis kisses him again, pushing him up against the couched, as small and cramped as it is.

“Are you sure?” he checks, because he feels like he needs to, and Harry nods in his neck.

-

An hour later, Harry’s jiggling his leg again. His knuckles are white on his knees, and he’s chewing on his bottom lip.

Louis knows _exactly_ how Harry acts when he needs to go for a wee. Of course. That being something he’s into, even if he’s never really tried it before. Not actively.

First he’ll flick his eyes back and forth every now and then. Looking for a place to go, probably, or wondering when he can without interrupting anything. Of course, more often than not, that means he ends up going to the loo at the last possible moment and missing _important events_.

Then comes the tap of his foot on the floor. Of course, that doesn’t show during their concerts but that’s okay. Louis doesn’t think about it during their performances. He does while they’re on the bus though, or at a formal dinner or a meeting, or in the studio.

Next thing, he’ll fumble at loose threads in his clothes, or fumble until there _are_ loose threads. His inability to sit still during an interview, looking like he’s about to run off. Wrapping his curls around his finger. Bite at his lower lip as he takes deep breaths, relaxing and tensing back up, hands flitting down to his zipper.

His hands are flitting down to his zip right now.

The other boys quit their FIFA a while back, Zayn and Liam are watching a film huddled together while Niall is munching down a bag of crisps.

Louis grins at Harry before loudly announcing, “Harry’s tired, we’re going to bed.”

Niall groans again, and Liam just tells them, “Be quiet, please!”

Louis flips them the bird because, really, whenever Niall’s got a bird with him he’s _at least_ as bad as the rest of them. Combined. Not to mention the way Liam groans ‘ _Zayn, oh god, Zayn, right there,_ _yes_ ’ when they think everyone’s asleep.

In other words, they _deserve_ it.

Harry’s bunk is in the bottom and Louis’ is on top, filled with bags, clothes, and other mess. Harry’s has both their blankets usually, but Louis threw his own out when it turned out that the bus was hot even at night, the metal functioning as a furnace rather than letting the cool desert air in.

Now it’s just their own pillows, an eiderdown, and that’s that.

He pushes Harry down on the duvet, lying down on top of him and closing the curtains. Louis flicks on the little reading light in the corner so he can look at Harry, which he does for a little while.

It’s out of his mouth before he can stop himself, the whispered, “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Harry whispers back, and then Louis pushes up his shirt, revealing the ferns, the butterfly, the birds, kissing them piece by piece as he goes. He quickly discards his own shirt before wriggling out of his jeans.

They turn inside out but that just makes it easier to pull them off; he’ll sort them out later.

He’s slower unbuttoning Harry’s jeans, watching the visible comfort pass over his face as he pops the button and unzips, Harry’s belly rounded up a little where his bladder is. Louis licks from his pubes up to his belly button as he pushes down Harry’s jeans, Harry lifting his hips to help him even if it goes with a little whine.

In response, the television sound is turned up.

Louis suppresses his snicker in the skin of Harry’s belly, his bladder tight against his cheek, and Harry gasps a little.

“Oh,” he says, quietly, leaning up over Harry. Harry’s still got his pants around his thighs, and their dicks brush through their underwear. “You gotta go, babe?”

“You know I do,” Harry says, voice pinched. He wiggles a little again, squeezing his bum, so Louis reaches around to stroke down the tight skin.

“Yeah, Haz, I do,” he whispers. “You don’t have to wait much longer.”

He pulls off Harry’s insanely tight jeans—they get stuck around his feet, and Louis wonders how the _fuck_ he gets them on even though he’s _seen_ Harry get dressed—and then moves back up, lying down next to him.

Louis takes his time touching up Harry a little. His skin’s a little clammy, probably from needing to wee so badly, and there’s a tension in his stomach and legs that isn’t usually there. When Louis presses down against Harry’s lower belly, he makes that desperate, whining sound again, his entire body going taut and only relaxing several moments after Louis has let go.

He shoves down the tight grey pants Harry’s got one—no matter how much he’d love the wet spot spread across them—and then makes quick work of his own.

Louis himself is hard already, to the point of leaking, so beyond allowing Harry stroke down his slit and scoop up the precum—and he licks it up from his thumb, Jesus, as if his desperation wasn’t enough yet—he doesn’t do much about himself.

Harry’s flaccid though, so Louis holds him gently, stroking up and down, watching the foreskin slide over and back off of his glans. “You’re so good,” he whispers against Harry’s chin, too far down to kiss him properly. “Doing what I want you to do, God, such a good boy.”

Harry shivers, his dick twitching against Louis’ hand and hardening a little.

“Just like that, yeah,” Louis encourages, feeling Harry get harder as he works on him. There’s lube under the pillow but he doesn’t want to use that, instead pulling the foreskin over the head of Harry’s dick and rubbing his finger against it the way he knows Harry likes.

It doesn’t take long before he’s trembling, even though he’s barely half-hard.

“What’s it, Haz?”

“I gotta go, Lou,” Harry whines, hips bucking up as Louis continues to stroke him. “Gotta go so bad.”

“So go,” Louis bites at his jaw. “Just let go.”

“I can’t-“ Harry whimpers, bucking again and grabbing Louis’ shoulders, his fingers digging into the skin.

Louis nods, and thinks about things that would make it easier for _him_. No, things that would’ve made it easier for him to take a wee if he’d been _Harry_.

His main concern would probably still be the sheets. Harry, though, barely cares about his own clothes, because somehow when it’s his own he’ll be okay with buying things new but when it’s someone else’s he feels like it’s a bother—to the other people.

Louis reaches up, grabs the scarf from Harry’s hair.

It’s a testament to how badly Harry needs to wee that he hardly responds to it. It’s the one with the little skulls on it—the one Louis knows that Harry owns at least two of.

He shakes it loose, then wads it up before pressing it against Harry’s dick. His own erection is pressing against the smooth texture as well, making his eyes roll back in his head because it feels just _that_ good and why haven’t they ever played around with this before, but instead he forces himself to focus back on Harry.

“Can you go now?” he asks.

Harry bites his lip, closes his eyes, and then his hips twitch. A little wetness seeps through the thin material, touching Louis’ hand, but it stops as soon as it started.

“Just relax, Haz,” he coos. “You’re okay. You’re fine. It will make you feel great, it will make _me_ feel great.”

More wetness, and Harry sighs a little, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. It’s hot against Louis’ fingers, making his dick twitch and wanting to rub right up against Harry.

“Feel good?” Louis mutters, and Harry nods.

Then he’s letting go, soaking the scarf in seconds. Louis squeezes it tighter against Harry’s dick, slowly jerking him as he pushes his fingers against the firm stream of Harry’s wee.

“You were right,” Harry mutters quietly, his hands on Louis’ shoulders, pushing through his hair, as he continues to wet his stomach, piss dripping down his sides and into the sheets. He spreads his legs a little and Louis falls between them easily, his belly pressing against Harry’s.

It’s all hot wetness between them, and Louis pushes up against him desperately, unable to keep himself from it as his head drops against Harry’s collarbone, breathing against the bird that represents himself. He pulls away his hands to grab at the sheets for more leverage, hips rolling faster and faster.

“Fuck,” he mutters, “fuck” and Harry holds him, grabs his bum as he pulls Louis closer. He’s fucking into the drenched material of Harry’s scarf, and then he’s coming, coming while Harry’s still going, adding to the wet mess between them.

He relaxes on top of Harry, focusing on regulating his breathing.

“’m done now,” Harry sighs after a while, as if Louis hadn’t noticed the fading stream yet.

“Yeah,” he mutters, pushing himself up a little.

“You like that?” he asks Louis, looking down at him, his eyes glittering in the reading light.

“I came, Haz,” Louis whispers, his voice hoarse from trying to keep quiet. “Yes. I liked it very much.”

“Okay,” Harry nods, swiping his hands through Louis’ hair again. “I didn’t mind as much as I thought I would.”

Louis nods back, because he can feel the hard ridge of Harry’s erection pressing against his belly. The wee’s cooling, so he reaches down and pulls away the scarf, throwing it aside.

He slowly strokes Harry, pulling his foreskin over the head before easing it back, watching him.

“Not as much as you thought you would,” he repeats quietly.

“Yeah,” Harry grunts, hips bucking up against Louis’ hand. “Not at all as much.”

“Good,” Louis tells him, “you’re so good for me, Hazza.”

“Yeah?” Harry gasps again, his fingers digging into Louis’ shoulders again. “Gonna show me how good?”

“Yeah,” Louis promises against the sweaty skin of Harry’s neck, before shuffling down, propping himself up in the lower half of the bunk.

He didn’t _plan_ on sucking off Harry, didn’t think it was appealing to actually taste someone’s wee, but Harry’s shaft is shining in the half-dark and precum is glistening at the tip and Louis wasn’t lying about how good Harry’s been to him.

Louis leans down, licking at the tip of Harry’s dick, and it’s not so bad—tastes mostly the same as it usually does, his tongue gliding easily against the tight-hot skin. Slowly he lowers his head over Harry’s dick, keeping his fist around the base, sucking hard.

That’s all it takes before Harry’s coming, and Louis hadn’t realised he’d been this close to the edge until his dick twitched on his tongue. He swallows it all, easily, licking up the droplets that escape when he pulls off.

He raises his eyebrows at Harry, but Harry only shrugs, blushing faintly.

“How are we gonna explain this?” he asks Louis, and Louis smirks because he has thought this through.

“Like this,” he smirks, procuring another bottle of water.

Instead of handing it over to Harry, though, he turns it upside down, flushing over Harry’s stomach.

“What the _fuck_ , Louis!” Harry yelps, trying to wriggle away from the cold water, and Louis starts laughing.

“I don’t want to know what you’re doing,” they hear Niall from the other side of the curtain, “but it fucking stinks like piss in there.”

“Louis emptied his water bottle across me,” Harry says, voice indignant.

“You were asking for it,” Louis protests, and tries to smother another giggle when Harry glares at him.

“Whatever,” Niall mutters, and then the bed on the other side of the path creaks, the curtains drawing closed.

“We’ll put on some clothes and have a shower, yeah?” Louis whispers in Harry’s ear. “Sleep in my bunk tonight.”

Harry nods.

-

They let Harry’s sheets air, and Louis hangs up the scarf—after flushing it with water in the tiny loo—to dry.

Before the performance the next evening, he hands it over to Harry.

“Wear this one instead,” he says, something warm tightening up his stomach as Harry looks down at the frumpled cloth in his hands.

It takes a couple of seconds, but then Harry slowly nods, “Okay.”

So maybe they can’t interact on stage too much without getting told off, but at least Harry’s got Louis’ semen in his hair. And his own wee. Kind of.

Louis will reward Harry plentiful tonight, and Harry knows it—judging by the hot looks he’s giving him from the other side of the stage.

 

[end]


End file.
